


Ricochet

by carma19



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carma19/pseuds/carma19
Summary: A terrifying tragedy sets Beca and Chloe on the right path. Told from the POV of Aubrey Posen.





	Ricochet

**I.** _You shout it out, but I can’t hear a word you say._

Aubrey Posen stormed through the doors of NYU Veterinary Hospital, sensible heels clicking hard on sanitized flooring and attracting the attention of the ill or injured cats and dogs waiting with anxious owners in the waiting area. But she paid them no mind, laser focused as she pushed past the line of folks eager to check in, leaning hard over the counter. “Excuse me, but I need to speak with Chloe Beale right away.” Her voice held little waver, and for that she was proud. 

She had to be the strong one right now. She didn’t have a choice.

The receptionist--a 40-something woman wearing scrubs and a messy bun--barely registered Aubrey’s presence (or the grumblings of those she’d cut in front of in line). Instead, her eyes locked over Aubrey’s shoulder, a grim expression on her face as she stared at the TV mounted in the corner of the room. “That’s such a shame,” she muttered, shaking her head. “She was my daughter’s favorite singer. I took her to her concert last year for her birthday. Talented girl. So young, too.” 

Aubrey followed the receptionist’s eyes and her jaw clenched at the breaking news alert following the latest shooting rocking the world, the headline flooding like ice through her veins.

**_Grammy Winner Beca Mitchell Critically Wounded by Gunman in Denver Hotel Lobby_ **

She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose after glancing back to the receptionist, growling through her teeth, her tone dangerously low. “She’s not dead,” she hissed. “She’s too stubborn for that.” Stepping to the side to block the woman’s view of the TV, she summoned all of her dad’s commanding energy and pointed to the phone. “I need to speak with Chloe Beale. It’s an emergency.” 

The receptionist frowned. “Ms. Beale’s assisting in surgery, ma’am. As a third year, she’s second in command on the procedure, and she’s not due out for another--”

“I need Chloe Beale _right now_.” Aubrey slammed her fist on the counter. “I’ll go in there and get her myself if I have to.” Aubrey made a move toward the double metal doors to prove she wasn’t bluffing.

“Okay! Okay, okay. Hold on, I’ll page her.” The receptionist pulled the phone to her ear and hit a few buttons. “Doctor, I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s a woman here--” She raised a brow.

“Aubrey Posen.”

“Her name’s Aubrey Posen, says she needs Chloe and it’s an emergency.” After a moment, she hung up. “She’ll be right out.”

Aubrey stepped back and paced back and forth a few times, glancing down at her phone and frowning at the dozens of notifications. The Bellas group chat, no doubt, but she’d handle that later.

Chloe burst through those metal doors moments later clad in a teal pair of scrubs, tugging the surgical mask off her face and the cap from her hair as her eyes locked on Aubrey’s, brow knit with concern. “Bree?? Are you okay?? What’s wrong?” 

Aubrey had rehearsed how to break the news the entire ride from the law firm where she’d been interning all year, once she’d found out what happened and realized Chloe must’ve been in surgery, judging by all the missed calls and unread texts. But one look at her best friend’s eyes and tears stung Aubrey’s. She cowardly glanced up at the TV, reaching for Chloe’s elbow.

When Chloe followed her eyes, her face paled in a white sheet as the most devastating cry she’d ever heard ripped from Chloe’s throat. Chloe reached up to cover her mouth in a weak attempt to smother the sound as her knees gave out and her free hand clutched Aubrey’s jacket. “Bree---Bree, no. Nononono, this can’t--she’s not--no, Bree, please--”

Aubrey dropped to her knees to catch Chloe before she hit the floor. “Chloe. Look at me.”

Chloe continued watching the screen in horror, tears flooding down her cheeks as her body trembled with shock. 

“Chloe.” Aubrey took Chloe’s face in her hands and forced her eyes on hers. “I bought us a flight to Denver. We’re be there tonight. She’s going to pull through this, okay? You and I both know she’s too damn stubborn to let some psycho hurt her and get away with it.” 

Chloe’s frantic blinking didn’t stem her tears, but her head jerked and bobbed in a frantic nod as her breathing continued in shallow pants. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Yeah, she--she’s gonna be okay. She will.” 

“C’mon.” Aubrey slipped her arm around Chloe’s waist. “Let’s go grab your things, and then we’ll get to the airport.”

****

**II.** _I’m talking loud, not saying much._

Chloe barely spoke on the five and a half hour flight. She stared out the window and clutched Aubrey’s hand the entire time, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Tears flowed freely, stopping only to start again moments later. 

Aubrey’s free hand continued refreshing her phone, grateful for the in-flight wifi as she followed every news feed, scouring for live updates on Beca’s condition. Over the course of the flight, developments popped in with new breaking headlines--nothing that would put Chloe at ease.

**_Beca Mitchell Shot Before Red Rocks Performance; Set To Receive Unsung Hero Award at HRC Gala This Weekend_ **

**_Beca Mitchell Airlifted to Hospital; Witnesses Heard Three Gunshots, Shooter Apprehended_ **

**_Beca Mitchell Shooting Possible Hate Crime: Shooter Tied to Anti-LGBT Organization_ **

With every new headline, Aubrey held her breath. She wasn’t dead yet. _She wasn’t dead yet._

They landed after dark, somehow, despite the time zone difference, and rushed through the Denver airport. Aubrey secured a Lyft and within forty minutes, they arrived at the hospital. Aubrey held tight to Chloe’s hand as she barreled through reporters.

They weren’t family, so they were sent to the waiting room, where they waited for two hours until a familiar face approached.

“Dr. Mitchell!” Chloe and Aubrey cried in unison, rushing over to him.

Dr. Mitchell opened his arms and hugged both of them at once. “Thanks for coming, Bellas,” he said, forcing a tired grin. “It’ll mean so much to Beca when she wakes up to have you here. She’s still in surgery. It’s been, um--” He pulled back and checked his watch. “Five and a half hours. They update me every so often.”

Chloe’s hand tightened on Aubrey’s, and she opened her mouth but another sob escaped and she pressed her lips together tightly to smother it once again.

“What’s the status, sir?” Aubrey asked, gripping Chloe’s hand as tight as she could in return. 

Dr. Mitchell sighed, running his hand over his face and shaking his head. His own bloodshot eyes welled with tears. “It’s pretty bad, girls. The bullets hit her in the back and her right shoulder, punctured her lung. One grazed the side of her head. Based on the angle of the bullet track, the surgeon said there may be permanent spinal damage, and she--she lost a lot of blood. She’s been unconscious ever since she hit the ground.”

“What’s her blood type?” Chloe blurted, stubbornly wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’ll donate if she needs--if she needs anything. Tell them they can test me here, take anything they need for her right away. Blood, organs--I don’t care--anything. _Anything_.”

The fierceness in Chloe’s plea tightened Aubrey’s chest, and Aubrey nodded in agreement. Of course she’d donate anything to help Beca, too. 

Dr. Mitchell reached out and braced his hand on Chloe’s upper arm, offering a sad smile. “Thank you, Chloe. I’ll keep you guys posted. They expect the surgery to be another couple hours at least.” He nodded toward the waiting area. “Why don’t you two try and relax? There’s coffee and a vending machine down the hall. I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything.” 

Beca remained in surgery for another three hours. Dr. Mitchell looked even more ashen when he returned, his words floating through them as they clung to each other in the waiting room chairs, his words washing over them seemingly in slow motion.

_Suffered a stroke during surgery._

_Slipped into a coma._

_If she wakes, she may never walk again._

_If she wakes._

Dr. Mitchell led Aubrey and Chloe through the quiet halls of the hospital toward Beca’s recovery room. He paused just outside. “I need to call Sheila and update her. You two okay to go in without me?”

Aubrey nodded firmly, steeling herself before peering inside.

A single fluorescent light illuminated the area over Beca’s bed, where she lay still on a recovery bed, looking smaller and paler than Aubrey had ever seen her. Her body, clad in a hospital gown, lay covered in heart monitors hooked up to several tall machines standing beside the bed beeping and booping in a steady rhythm, with IVs taped into the back her right hand. An oxygen wire sat strapped across her face and hooked into her nostrils, and the side of her head had been shaved and bandaged just over her left ear. 

“Bree,” Chloe croaked, leaning full-body against her in the door frame of the room, just as she had when the shock poured over her and flooded her system when she first saw the news report. 

Aubrey wrapped a supportive arm around Chloe, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Come on, let’s sit with her until they kick us out.” She moved slowly, physically supporting Chloe the whole way as she guided Chloe to sit in the chair beside her bed. (Dr. Mitchell likely sat there before.)

“Look at her, Bree,” Chloe whimpered, her hand flying to her chest as she seemingly tried to will herself to not hyperventilate. “She looks so--so--”

“Strong,” Aubrey insisted, bracing her hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter, Chloe. A pain in the ass, stubborn as hell, never backs down _fighter_ , remember? She’ll wake up.” The firmness in Aubrey’s tone brooked no argument, as though she willed every ounce of control she ever possessed to make this happen. After a moment of eyeing up all of the monitors, she squeezed Chloe’s shoulder. “Now’s a good time to tell her, you know.” 

“What?” Chloe’s eyes left Beca only to crane her neck back at Aubrey, blinking helplessly. 

“She can hear us, Chloe. I know she can. _Tell her._ Give her a reason to live. The best reason.” 

Chloe flushed, her breath hitching. “Bree, I--”

“Do you want me to leave? I can step out for a few minutes, if that’ll be easier--”

“No.” Chloe shook her head. “No, stay. I can’t do this--be here--without you.”

Aubrey offered one more squeeze to Chloe’s shoulder before releasing, resting her arm across the top of the chair instead.

Chloe leaned forward and shakily reached out to take Beca’s lifeless hand, her thumb grazing over the black painted fingernails bitten down to the quick. “Beca,” she rasped, barely loud enough to be heard. She forced a deep breath. “Bec, it’s me. It’s Chloe. Aubrey’s here, too. And we--I--” She swallowed the lump forming hard and fast in her throat. “You need to wake up. You need to wake up and get better. I know we haven’t--I know we kinda went our separate ways the past couple years, and I’m almost finished vet school now and you’re been changing lives with your music and tearin’ it up on tour, and we never--we never took our chance. Timing’s never been on our side, but I know deep down--I know you know--I know we have this… this unspoken… _thing_ we’ve never--” 

Aubrey held her breath, her eyes flickering to the door. She’d tackle anyone who dared disturb this moment for two of her closest friends, no matter how heartwrenching the circumstance.

Chloe took Beca’s hand and pressed several kisses to her fingertips before offering a lingering kiss to her palm, bringing that hand against her cheek and holding it there. “I love you, Beca Mitchell.” 

The words echoed in the room, and maybe Aubrey’s jetlagged, tearfilled eyes were playing tricks on her, but she could’ve sworn she saw the slightest hitch in Beca’s heart monitor line. 

Chloe found more of her voice and pressed on. “I’ve loved you for so long that I can’t remember what my life was like before I loved you. I’ve never stopped loving you. And I’m--god, I’m so _sorry_. I’m sorry I’ve never said it. I’m sorry I never told you. But I promise--I _swear_ , Bec. If you wake up, I’ll tell you every single day for as long as I live.” 

Aubrey cried silently behind the chair, dabbing tears from her cheeks with her handkerchief. She knew whatever pain she felt--the fear and worry and devastation and downright anger--Chloe felt tenfold. 

Her best friend didn’t deserve this, and neither did Beca. They were good people who always wanted the best for everyone they cared for. It would be cruel to separate them, especially now. Especially after they wouldn’t let trivial things like jobs or distance keep them apart anymore. 

Aubrey vowed then and there to stick by Chloe’s side, no matter what happened.

****

**III.** _I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet._

Six days later, Dr. Mitchell called Chloe while she and Aubrey took one of their daily walks around Denver to get some air and stretch their legs.

_”Beca’s awake.”_

They ran back to the hospital side by side, sprinting through the halls until they pulled to a stop outside of Beca’s room. 

Sunlight poured through the open curtains, illuminating Beca’s conscious form.

 _Awake_.

“Hey nerds,” she croaked, her voice raspy from misuse. She looked exhausted and ill but _alive_. 

“ _Beca!_ ” Chloe barreled at her first with Aubrey hot on her heels. She reached out and hesitated, realizing Beca was still hooked up to machines and a hug might hurt her.

Aubrey realized the same thing. 

So they each took one of Beca’s hands, and Chloe dropped into the chair, her knees giving out once again. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me,” she cried as a hysterical sort of chuckle, bringing Beca’s hand to her cheek, just as she had the first time she’d sat in that chair. “You’re okay?? The doctors--they said--you’re gonna be okay, right?” 

“I guess--” Beca shrugged and then winced, grumbling a few swears under her breath. 

“Did you already forget you got shot in the shoulder?” Aubrey asked, a teasing grin spreading on her face. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Beca mumbled, but she grinned right back. Only a moment later, her gaze fell to the blanket covering her lap and she frowned. “I can’t walk,” she muttered, swallowing hard. “I can’t feel my legs at all. I keep trying to move my toes and it’s like--it’s like they’re not there.” 

“But you can sing,” Chloe reminded her.

A soft puff of a strained chuckle passed through Beca’s lips. “I can sing,” Beca agreed. “I guess that’s something, huh?”

“That’s everything,” Chloe assured her, big blue eyes shining with hope.

Beca’s gaze locked with Chloe’s and she let the pad of her thumb trace Chloe’s cheekbone. “Not _everything_ ,” she whispered, her voice lowered now for Chloe’s sake.

Aubrey felt the mood shift in the room so sharply it stole her breath, and that was when she knew--

This was their moment. The moment they deserved more than anyone else in the world. Their perceived massive roadblocks that kept them apart all these years suddenly morphed into no-brainers.

 _Finally_.

She jolted into action immediately, releasing Beca’s hand and striding across the room. “Hey, um--Dr. Mitchell? Could you--I need your help with something,” Aubrey said, taking the confused professor’s arm and leading him out of the room so Beca and Chloe could have some privacy. 

Aubrey made up some excuse about discovering a passion for teaching and wanting his advice on pursuing a career in academia.

It was a lie that would buy them five minutes, but she knew they’d spend them well.

And, she realized with a calming deep breath, they had all the time in the world.

****

**IV.** _You shoot me down, but I get up._

Fifteen months later, Aubrey stood behind Chloe in her childhood backyard in Portland in front of a gorgeous lily-entwined arch, dutifully clutching a bouquet and a box of rose gold rings.

Fifteen months of grueling rehab. Fifteen months of defying the odds. Fifteen months of sheer determination led to _this moment_ , and every single guest looked on with tears swimming in their eyes.

Beca Mitchell, wearing a gorgeous beaded ivory jumpsuit with a matching dazzling cane, made her way down the aisle, unsteady and slow but balanced, step by step. Dr. Mitchell strolled by his daughter’s side, ready to catch her if she fell, but Beca refused; her eyes remained locked on Chloe the entire time with a wide, confident smirk plastered on her face as she walked, unassisted, toward her beaming bride.

Aubrey grinned as pride bloomed in her chest.

Beca Mitchell had always been too stubborn for her own good.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Connect with me on Tumblr @ starlightscape :D


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